74. Sooryavanshi

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Ishika sat on the bed, adjusting her blanket carefully. The day’s events had left her mentally drained, and all she wanted was a good night’s sleep.

As she settled in, Rudraksh entered the room and walked over to her, his expression unreadable. He sat down beside her, leaning back casually.

“Hey, Dil,” he said softly, catching her attention.

Ishika frowned in confusion, tilting her head slightly. “Dil?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Ohoo, Mr. Sooryavanshi?” she added with a sarcastic edge.

Rudraksh blinked, genuinely puzzled. “What… Sooryavanshi?”

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You just called me something other than Ishika, right? So, obviously, I thought you forgot my name.”

“That’s not—” Rudraksh began, but she cut him off.

“And who else has the unique ability to forget names but Sooryavanshi himself? So, congratulations, Mr. Sooryavanshi,” she finished, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

Rudraksh stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter, his deep chuckles filling the room.

Ishika froze, her sarcastic smirk fading as she got lost in the sound.

The way his eyes crinkled, the ease in his demeanor—it was rare, and she found herself momentarily captivated.

Catching his breath, he smiled at her. “I called you Dil because that’s what I'm gonna call you from now on.”

Ishika blinked, her usual sharp retorts failing her for a moment. Before she could process his words, he held up the ointment jar.

“Don’t forget what the doctor said. You need to apply this before sleeping,” he reminded her.

She reached for the jar, her fingers brushing against his. But he quickly pulled it back, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“Give it to me. I can apply it myself,” she said firmly.

“Not happening, Dil,” he said, his tone final.

“Why not?” she challenged, narrowing her eyes.

“Because I want to,” he replied simply, the quiet authority in his voice leaving no room for argument.

She hesitated, unsure. Her cheeks flushed slightly at the thought. “Rudraksh ji… I can handle it,” she said, trying again.

He shook his head. “I said no, Dil.”

The use of her new name made her look away, biting her lip nervously. After a pause, she nodded reluctantly. “Fine,” she muttered.

He smiled, pleased with her agreement. “Take off your shirt,” he said casually.

Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock. “Excuse me?”

He raised an eyebrow, as though daring her to challenge him. “You heard me. Take off your shirt.”

She stared at him, speechless, her face flushing. He sat back, completely calm, waiting patiently for her to comply.

After a long moment, she sighed and turned her back to him. Slowly, she began unbuttoning her shirt, her hands trembling slightly.

Rudraksh, noticing her hesitation, looked down respectfully, giving her privacy.

She slipped the shirt off her shoulders, revealing her bare back covered in burns.

To preserve her modesty, she grabbed a towel and covered her front securely.

Once covered, she turned her head slightly to glance at him. “Rudraksh ji…” she called softly, unsure if he was ready.

He looked up, his eyes immediately falling on her back. His heart clenched at the sight.

The burns were angry and raw, a painful reminder of everything she had endured. He clenched his jaw, a mixture of anger and sorrow swirling in his chest.

“Come here,” he said firmly, his voice soft but commanding.

She obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back facing him. She adjusted the towel to ensure her front remained covered.

He sat behind her, his gaze lingering on the burns as he opened the jar of ointment.

His fingers, warm and gentle, brushed against her skin as he traced the scars. Ishika shivered under his touch, her breath hitching.

“Sorry,” he murmured, smirking slightly when he noticed her cheeks turning pink.

“It’s fine,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his fingers into the ointment and began applying it carefully, his touch as soft as possible.

When she winced slightly, he immediately slowed down, his fingers moving with even more care.

“Almost done,” he assured her.

She nodded, biting her lip as she focused on the towel in her hands, trying to ignore the tingling sensation his touch left on her skin.

After he finished, she shyly reached for her shirt, eager to cover up again. But Rudraksh stopped her, his hand gently gripping her wrist.

“Don’t,” he said.

She frowned and flushed. “What do you mean, don’t?”

“It would be better if you wore something loose. Your burns need air to heal,” he explained.

“I don’t have any loose clothes,” she admitted hesitantly, her cheeks warming hot again.

Without a word, he stood up and walked over to his wardrobe.

He rummaged through it for a moment before pulling out one of his oversized shirts. He turned back to her, holding it out.

“Here,” he said.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it from him shyly. “Thank you, Rudraksh ji,” she said softly and he smiled softly seeing her blush.

She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat at the warmth in his eyes.

Holding the shirt tightly, she turned away to change. As she slipped into his shirt, the fabric enveloping her in his scent, she felt an unfamiliar sense of comfort.

When she turned back around, he was already sitting on the bed, waiting for her. She climbed in beside him, adjusting the blanket over herself.

“Goodnight, Dil,” he said, his voice soft.

She smiled, the shyness returning to her face. “Goodnight, Rudraksh ji,” she replied.

And with that, the room fell into a peaceful silence, both of them feeling closer than ever.

Rudraksh lay on his side of the bed, arms folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of Ishika’s even breathing.

She had fallen asleep almost immediately, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to her.

But sleep eluded him.

His gaze shifted to her sleeping form beside him. She was curled up under the blanket, her head resting on the pillow, and even in her sleep, she clutched the edges of the blanket as if seeking some form of security.

The sight of her in his shirt was driving him insane.

The oversized fabric swallowed her small frame, the sleeves slightly rolled up, but it couldn’t hide how beautifully it suited her.

The way his scent lingered on her now, mixed with her own faint fragrance—it was distracting, to say the least.

He ran a hand over his face, frustrated.

Get a grip, Rudraksh!, he scolded himself.

But every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her sitting in front of him earlier, her skin flushed, her shyness evident as she tried to cover herself with the towel.

And now, seeing her this close, dressed in something that belonged to him, felt so... intimate.

It stirred something unfamiliar in him, something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent.

The blanket slipped down her shoulder, revealing the loose neckline of his shirt and a glimpse of her collarbone.

Rudraksh’s jaw tightened as he quickly sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“God,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at her again.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes lingering on her peaceful face.

She looked so different like this—vulnerable, almost childlike. But he knew better. She was anything but weak.

The scars on her back were proof of the battles she had fought, the pain she had endured.

And yet, here she was, sleeping beside him, trusting him enough to let her guard down.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he reached out to adjust the blanket over her.

His fingers brushed against her hair, and for a moment, he let his hand linger, his heart softening.

“Goodnight, Dil,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Even if sleep refused to come to him that night, he didn’t mind. Watching her, protecting her, and obsessing over her, was enough.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Amrita adjusted her blanket and pillow, making sure everything was just the way she liked it before settling down.

Aaryansh, however, had other plans. He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, his sharp gaze fixed on her.

His hand was tucked beneath his chin, his expression unreadable.

"Are you always this quiet before sleeping?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

His voice was low, smooth, laced with something she didn’t want to decipher.

Amrita didn’t look at him. "I like peace before I sleep."

He smirked. "Peace? Then how do you survive with me?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "I ask myself the same thing every day."

Aaryansh chuckled, but his eyes remained on her, studying her. "You know, I still can’t wrap my head around it. The Amrita I know, the woman who could single-handedly terrify an army of men, is also the same girl sleeping in my bed, adjusting her pillow like a little kid."

She shot him a glare. "I’m not a kid."

He tilted his head. "Hmm, you say that, but you look pretty adorable right now."

Amrita felt the heat rise to her cheeks. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered, she quickly got up.

"I’ll get some water," she said, walking towards the door before he could say anything else.

Aaryansh watched her go, amusement flickering in his eyes.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Downstairs, Amrita paused when she noticed the faint glow from Dadi’s room.

The door was slightly open, and when she peeked inside, she saw her sitting on the bed, flipping through an old album.

A small smile crept onto Amrita’s lips as she stepped inside. "Dadi, still awake?"

Dadi looked up, her face instantly lighting up. "Ammu, come here, beta."

Amrita walked over and sat beside her, glancing at the pictures in the album. "What are you looking at?"

"Old memories," Dadi replied with a wistful smile. "Your childhood, your father’s..."

Amrita hesitated. "I... don’t remember much about him."

Dadi chuckled softly, flipping to a picture of a man holding a little girl in his arms.

"You were his little tornado. You used to run around the entire house while he chased after you, trying to feed you. 'Catch me, Daddy!' you’d say, laughing like there was nothing else in the world that mattered."

Amrita stared at the picture, her heart clenching. "I did?"

Dadi nodded, laughter in her eyes. "And the funniest part? When you called him ‘Daddy,’ it sounded like ‘Dadi.’ He used to say, ‘My Ammu thinks I’m her grandma now.’"

Amrita smiled, imagining the scene. "He must have been a patient man."

"He was," Dadi agreed. "And always after you to drink water. ‘Ammu, have you had water?’ He would ask you at least ten times a day."

Amrita let out a small laugh, though a dull ache settled in her chest. She wished she remembered.

Dadi reached out and patted her cheek gently. "No matter what, beta, he loved you more than anything. And he would be so proud of you today."

Amrita swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Thank you, Dadi."

Dadi smiled warmly. "Go now, or Aaryansh will think I kidnapped you."

Amrita chuckled. "Goodnight, Dadi."

"Goodnight, beta."

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

When she returned to the room, Aaryansh was still awake, waiting. He sat up the moment she walked in, his gaze fixed on her.

"You took too much time," he said, his tone casual, but his eyes gave away his impatience.

Amrita raised an eyebrow, walking toward the bed. "Did you miss me?"

His smirk was instant. "Maybe."

She rolled her eyes and climbed back into bed, settling under the blanket.

But her mind lingered on the conversation with Dadi, the faint memories she didn’t even know she had. The warmth in her chest was unfamiliar, yet comforting.

It saddened her that she couldn’t remember much about her father, but she refused to let it show.

Aaryansh shifted beside her, watching her closely. "Buttercup, Did you drink water?"

The question hit her like a wave.

Ammu, have you drank water?

A voice from her past. A memory that felt so distant yet suddenly so clear.

She could almost hear it, the warmth in her father’s voice, the way he always reminded her, his endless concern.

Her lips parted slightly, her heart skipping a beat.

Aaryansh frowned at her silence. "Buttercup?"

She blinked, snapping out of it, and then, without a word, reached for the glass on the nightstand. She took a small sip, then another.

As she placed the glass back, a soft smile graced her lips—one filled with something deeper than just amusement. Something nostalgic.

She lay back down, eyes twinkling in a way Aaryansh had never seen before.

"Goodnight, Aarya," she murmured, her voice softer than usual.

Aaryansh stilled. It was rare for her call him that.

His gaze lingered on her peaceful face, the way her lips held that small, secretive smile.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle.

"Goodnight, Buttercup," he whispered, his own smile finding its way to his lips.

And for the first time in a long while, Amrita slept with a heart full of warmth.

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

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